


Start A War For You

by hideinthecitynight (avoidbrightstreetlights)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidbrightstreetlights/pseuds/hideinthecitynight
Summary: “It has been 247 days since you’ve won the war. 246 days since I’ve asked you on a date. And 245 since you’ve fallen into a coma,” he sniffs then, looks determinedly at Harry’s face and pronounces, “I refuse to take it personally.”The one where Draco sneaks visits to a one coma patient.





	1. Chapter 1

“You will have to wake up one day. I promised to take you out on a date and you wouldn’t want to make a liar out of me, would you?” Draco huffs out a little deprecating laugh. “I am already one though, but not for you. I would never lie to you. So don’t make me start now.”

Draco’s voice turns scratchy in the end as his eyes burn holes into the hospital floor. He takes a deep breath, clears his throat and blinks the strange moisture away.

He stretches and straightens in his chair, and makes such a grand change that one would think the coma patient lying in the bed had another visitor already who seems relaxed and regal in his seat.

“It has been 247 days since you’ve won the war. Everyone’s very proud,” he says in a dispassionate voice and then lets the façade flicker, his shoulders droop. It seems like his only talent, pretending to be somebody else, is flickering into non-existence. It is a sad sight to behold, he thinks. “It has been 246 days since I’ve asked you on a date. And 245 since you’ve fallen into a coma,” he sniffs then, looks determinedly at Harry’s face and pronounces, “I refuse to take it personally.”

He looks down again and plays with his sleeves, tugging at them nervously.

“I’ve made more progress, just as I’ve promised. I am a regular now at a Cluedo Club and readings at the library. I have a few records on my own, and I feel confident enough to even sing along when I feel risky. I have a TV now set up in my room as well and I have to say I enjoy watching the news.  I also visit cinema every Thursday. I ought to take you with me someday, those pictures are truly fascinating, they don’t stop moving, there is no loop, the story goes on, and on, and on…Just like ours was supposed to.” Draco gives a throaty laugh and shakes his head. “Look at me, rumbling at your prone form. How impolite of me.”

He worries his lip for a few minutes then, rubs at his bloodshot eyes and fixes his hair. When he speaks, nothing more than a fierce but guilty whisper comes out.

“I know it is horrible of me and you would never approve of me Potter, but I,” his breath hitches, afraid of the words threatening to come out, “I..I wish- I wish there was a war again, just so you would wake up and save us all.”

Draco’s hands tremble and he sniffs into his collar, trying to keep himself together.

“I thought I could start one just to give you a reason to wake up,” tears swell in his eyes and he grabs the still hand lying on the white sheets on a whim. “I could join the ex-Death-Eaters, cook something up, blow a few buildings up, and then you’d wake up, and I would hand myself in and tell you everything, gladly having at least those few minutes of my confession to look at you talking, smiling again, fuck, even confused frowning I would give everything in the world to see, before they’d take me away to the Azkaban…” he squeezes Harry’s hand nervously. “But then I think about you looking at me, all disappointed with me and I do not think I could take it. How I’d have you back but you’d not want me anymore. I think that is the only thing stopping me.” He calms down gradually and squeezes the still hand again. “I am selfish and I hope you wouldn’t want me any other way. Although who am I kidding. I don’t know what you want, I have no idea what you see in me,” his voice rises, it's persistent and fervent now, “you have to tell me, you have to wake up and tell me then, you _owe_ me this, you have to wake up and tell me why you make me dream of that kiss you gave me, you have to do it again, you have to wake up and do it again, wake up!” His voice echoes in the empty room and Draco flinches. He leans down and presses his forehead to Harry’s hand. “You have to wake up and put me out of my misery. You have to finish it. Any way you like,” he presses a tiny wet kiss and whispers, “Love me or kill me, Potter, but _do_ at least something.”

He lingers there but springs to his feet when he hears footsteps approaching. With a trembling hand, he fixes his hair and then his waistcoat. He looks at Harry’s serene face and wishes him only happy dreams.

He quickly strides to the door and stands at its side. He casts a disillusionment charm on himself just in time as a Healer comes into the room. He slips through the door she just came in, crosses several rooms as he’s done many times before and disapparates home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potter wakes up in three...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going once, going twice a-and - sold! Back to me though since no one wanted to take the job of playing with the story a bit.  
> On another note:  
> Feedback was incredible! I never expected it, if I'm honest. But it's there and I could not be happier. That is why I decided to write some more.   
> I do not guarantee that I will finish it, there will be no posting schedule. There are no promises. But there is a second chapter if you'd like to read some more.

“Today is the day number 259. And I am a fool who once again broods over your bed.”

Draco takes his hands out of the pockets and conjures a chair for himself to sit down near the bed.

“Would you like to go on a date?” He blinks at a comatose body and truly feels like a madman. “I feel like reminding you of a reward that awaits you for waking up will make you hurry the fuck up.”

He crosses his legs and tries to uphold his posture, even though there is no one to see him but Harry, - if he woke up, of course.

“Today I’ve planned our date. Again. And it is a 187 one I’ve planned. I’m trying to come up with a new one every day but as you see I am not always successful. It is not for the lack of ideas, I assure you, I would gladly plan all our dates for the rest of our lives, I even expect it and you will not say a word of a protest! Right,” with cheeks flushed, he unclasped his hands to straighten his collar and shift a little on his chair.

“I will come up with the rest 72 dates later this week, I promise I will. The reason I did not – well, I have not been well lately which cannot come as a surprise to anyone who has seen me… But I did not come to talk about that.Today I am trying to tempt you into waking up with a date. Again. Maybe if you hear what waits for you you’d be eager to wake up faster.” Draco clears his throat and looks at Harry, who has not moved an inch.

“Tomorrow is a Cannons game. That is why I always come up with different plans every day - so that they would keep up with the latest news and tendencies in the wizarding world. Well, tomorrow they play. And I have tickets to the seats with the team. They even would allow you to fly and play with them if you wanted. You just have to wake up today and we’ll be there just in time for you to enjoy your life a little,” he looks intently at the untempted Harry and sighs dejectedly.

“No? Not good enough? Well, how about we go to your Aunt and trash her place? I have enough polyjuice for the both of us. I’ve also learned a few nifty hexes that you’d find amusing. My transfiguration is better these days too so if you’d like to see them get what they deserve you just have to ask.” He looks again and looks, and looks, cannot take his eyes away from the prone form, he searches for at least a little bit of movement. “You just have to ask. So wake up and ask. Ask me anything, I’ll do anything.”

His throat is sore and words come out scratchy and pathetic. He does not even recognize himself anymore.

This is what the Saviour of the World did to him. He ruined him.

“I think I’d better get on to planning something else since you do not wish to wake up to these events. That’s fine, I’ll do better. I have all the time in the world to plan. I’d even ditch my standing date with the cinema this Thursday, that how much I want you to wake up.” He gives a throaty laugh and impulsively grabs Harry’s hand, and rubs it between his palms.

“You know that right? I’d give up anything.”

He squeezes it once, then again, and again; shakes it a little or was it just a tremble in his hand? He settles on squeezing it again, demanding to be responded to but the man in front of him carelessly refuses.

Draco gives up a gentle sigh and, while still gripping the hand tightly, turns his head away.

These days he finds looking and not looking at Harry equally tiring as well as trying. He is constantly torn between the desire to commit every single curve of his face to the memory and turning away, to never see the unnatural stillness of someone who held the hope Draco once thought ceased to exist in his heart.

“If you do not wish to choose now – that’s alright. Someday, you will wake up and you will choose. You will act and voice your opinion. We will argue and then make up. I look forward to it. I look forward to anything to do with you,” he sighs again, feeling like a complete imbecile.

He could not help but feel a bit disgusted with himself – or a lot. Malfoys did not do ‘hopeful’, nor ‘besotted.’ But that’s exactly who he was.  A fool in love who believed that someday the only man who had managed to earn his trust and respect would wake up.

He could not help but hate himself a bit. The man in front of him was his weakness – a defenceless unconscious weakness.

And it was only a matter of time until it would stifle his strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potter wakes up in two...


	3. The Life After

When Draco walks into the room, he sees a single bright red tulip sitting in a gold pot near Potter's table.

  
He stops and looks at it from a distaste. His eyes flick to Harry, still comatose, unmoving Harry, and then back to the plant. He then looks around the room, searching for any other changes. When he can't find any, he turns back to the ugly thing. His lips curl in distaste.

  
He hates it. He hates that Harry will never see it, even with all the preserving charms, it will die, and Harry will not even know it was ever there. He hates how ugly it is, all redgoldred. He hates that someone brought it here. He hates that it was not him. He hates that he did not even think to bring at least anything. He hates how unworthy he is.  
He carefully sits down onto the chair, still not taking his eyes from the plant.

  
"Do you like it, Potter? Little gift Mudblood and Weasel brought you?" He asks poisonously. "Because that was them, yes? The Golden Trio, always in each others pockets," he spits out and, suddenly, tears well up in his eyes.

  
His expression drops it's hostility and he looks ashamedly at his lap.

  
"Won't you say anything?" He whispers guiltily. "Won't you defend them? You hate it when I call them that. Don't you have anything to say?"

  
Silence is his answer, as always these days.

  
"I miss your reprimands. They were always so...just. They were always because you cared about other people. Them first, then you... And look where it-"

  
He cuts himself off and rubs at his eyes.

  
"See what's happening to me? I'm degrading, dying... I'm on the path of becoming like my father, back on that path. You where my lighthouse, my safe place, my guiding light. Light of my life. And now you're fading. And I'm- I'm lost, Harry." He whispers his confession. "I miss you so much, I'm so lost-."

  
Draco suddenly leans over Harry's prone form and hugs him tightly around torso, pressing his face into the man's stomach, as close as the garments lets him.

  
He rubs his face against the blanket covering Harry, right hand securely grasping man's waist while the other seeks out Harry's hand and takes it.

  
He sighs unhappily as he nestles more comfortably into Harry's form.

  
"You used to be so hot," he whispers into the cloth. "And now you're barely warm. I hate that," he blinks away his tears and continues, "I always thought you'd keep me warm at night."

  
He drags his head over the cloth and slowly turns it to the side to look at Harry's face from below.

  
There are no glasses over his eyes. He hasn't worn them for a very long time. They sit dejectedly on his bedside table, gathering dust.

  
"You look so peaceful," he continues quietly. "So peaceful, and innocent, and. ." He closes his eyes and stops before he chokes up.

  
Instead, Draco lets his anger take control.

  
"I hate-" he starts and wills himself not to cry, but be angry instead, dammit, just angry, be angry, "I can't," he confesses to his weakness quietly.

  
Because he can't. Because somewhere along the way, Harry Potter broke him and left only pieces behind.

  
"I'd rather think that you look so peaceful and healthy not because of a comma , but because I'm by your side every day. Well, maybe also no one's tried to kill you in a while, but, you know, I think I played a bigger role." He gives up a hopeless chuckle. "So you better wake up and reward me. We both deserve it."

  
His arm holds Harry's form tightly, willing the Saviour to feel his touch, to know that he's here, that he's waiting, only for him, always.

  
He doesn't care how or why, but he has to wake up.

  
And if he'll suddenly acquire amnesia? That's fine, Draco will not leave his side until Harry sees him, notices him. He desperately wants to continue with "falls in love with him" but he doesn't even know the state of affairs now.

  
He'll lose his sight? That is fine too, Draco will gladly be his guide, touching him, holding him, close, so close.

  
Or speech? Irreparable? Well, Draco can talk for the both of them! One look, one smile from Harry - after months and months of nothing, it will be enough.

  
And even if he looses his magic. Draco would use his for the both of them. Or, give it up for the both of them. He had already figured out the priorities in this life. Magic is nothing when there is no purpose to life, when there is no one in it, when his heart is incomplete, fractured.

  
He wonders if the doctors will ever give up on their saviour. If they will rescind the magic that helps him live. If they will lose all hope and let him die.

  
That would be the same day Draco died too.

  
How pretty their tombstones would be, how symbolic. Died on the same day.

  
He wonders if anyone would notice. If anyone would make the connection.

  
Probably not.

  
He wonders when he will go insane. Loosing his mental facilities from living with half a heart in his chest. He wonders if he would have his own bed in the ward downstairs. He wonders if they would be willing to move it to Harry's room. After all, that's where he'd spend all his time anyway. He wonders if they would stop him, sedate him, restrict him, just to keep away from Harry. As if he’s some fucking deranged fan.

  
He wonders how he would react.

  
He'd like to think there would be an explosion or an earthquake as a result of an accidental magic in addition to a glorious strop.

  
He wonders if it is the only future that destiny has in plans for him. He thinks it is the best one in case Harry doesn't wake up.

  
Since he is afraid to hope for afterlife where Harry is already waiting for him, he hopes for the Janus Thickey Ward.  
He hopes it won't be long now, for either. He'd rather stop pretending living life by himself. Movies, evening news, book clubs.

He's so very tired to keep himself going. A dead man, the big pretender, walking among the living.

  
He'd rather not.

  
He hugs Harry even tighter, listening to the heart that beats for two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up in 1...

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see something happen or hear Draco say or do anything specific, speak now


End file.
